


The Wand Chooses the Wizard

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 09:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After leaving Hogwarts, Harry trained to become a wandmaker. Ten years after the war a couple of days before the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, he happens upon the wand of an old adversary as he reminisces. He takes a journey to return the wand to its rightful owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wand Chooses the Wizard

Harry sat in his garden at Godric’s Hollow and watched as the sun set, burned red heat colouring the evening sky. He sipped a cold beer as he watched day become night, his grip on a slim wand, roughly ten inches long, never faltering. 

It was soon after the sun had set and the crickets chirped in the background that the silence of the evening began to feel oppressive. His hand clenched a little tighter around the wand and he looked down at his hand with a soft sigh. It felt springy in his hand as the magic from the wand whispered with memories of the past.

It would be May soon and on the second day of the month, Harry would remember the dead.

Everybody thought Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived (Again) and the most famous name in Wizarding Britain, would be destined for great things. He had been offered Ministry positions, fast-track routes to becoming an Auror and numerous contracts from Quidditch teams. Harry had rejected them all and spent years in relative solitude training to be a wandmaker under the tutelage of Garrick Ollivander who agreed to train Harry when he had been asked to do so, as thanks for when Harry had rescued him from the clutches of Voldemort during the war.

Five years ago, Ollivander breathed his last breath, passing peacefully in his sleep. The business which had been with the family since 382 B.C. was left in its entirety to Harry Potter, as Ollivander’s two children both predeceased him. Harry had not changed the name on the front of the shop, retaining the location in Diagon Alley and sending his own apprentice to run the shop in Hogsmeade. 

The shop was always busiest before a new term started. The rest of the days passed in relative solitude, most of the business generated by witches or wizards who struggled with their magic or whose wands required repair. It was a life which kept Harry out of the public eye and it suited him far better than the alternatives. 

The tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts had prompted Harry to contemplate the drawer in his shop which he seldom had cause to open; the drawer filled with the wands of the missing and the dead. On that day in particular, with the pace of business slow and a lack of insistent chimes from the small bell over the door, he had felt compelled to remember. 

He had found himself thinking about the war before he moved over to the drawer and opened it, taking out the wands one at a time. He looked at Fred’s wand first and felt a hum of familiar magic. He closed his eyes and remembered the sounds of laughter, the feeling of coming home and the soft scent of soapy skin and home cooking. 

_“Here, Harry – try this, it’s delicious.”_

_“Why don’t I believe you?” Harry laughed and looked down at the innocuous looking purple boiled sweet, wrapped in clear cellophane and tilted his head up at Fred who grinned down at him. “Go on then, what is it?”_

_Fred laughed and looked at George with a shrug, “He’s not going to fall for it, Georgie.”_

_George grinned at Harry and ruffled his hair, making him yelp as he moved to stand next to Fred, with a nudge to his shoulder._

_“Told you he wouldn’t. How about giving it to Ron?”_

_Fred grinned, nudging George back and winked at Harry._

_“Better not. He’s not speaking to me since I turned his pencil case into a Tarantula when he was being a right know it all.”_

Dogwood, with the end shaped like a pine cone. Harry felt the rough end of the wand and opened his eyes as the image of the twins and the sound of laughter faded from his memory and he was back in his shop again. Harry remembered one of the first people to visit the shop after Harry began working there had been George, who had brandished his own wand desperately at Ollivander, his face pale and drawn. 

_“It’s not working anymore.”_

_“What do you mean it’s not working, boy?” Ollivander took the wand and examined it, while Harry watched George closely._

_“It doesn’t do anything, not since Freddie…”_

_“Twins. I remember now.” Ollivander turned the wand over in his hands and nodded, murmuring to himself, “Once one is gone, the other is lost forever.”_

_“You’re not helping!” Harry rounded on Ollivander furiously and walked to George, resting a hand on his arm. “It will be alright, George. Just give it time, yeah?”_

_“I’m afraid that won’t help, Mister Potter. The twins’ wands were connected, in a way.” Ollivander looked at George and shook his head. “I’m afraid this will be quite useless now. You must choose another wand.”_

_George had looked around the shop at the walls of wands and then looked brokenly at Harry’s hand on his arm. After a moment of uncomfortable silence he turned on his heel and left the shop, leaving his wand behind. Harry didn’t know if George had ever come back to choose another wand. If he did, Harry never saw him and George had long since moved to another country._

_Running, Molly had said – running from his memories._

Mahogany - like the handle of the Nimbus 2000, smooth and unyielding. Harry felt the wood of George’s wand beneath his fingers the magic like Fred’s but different somehow, with a dull note of pain that made Harry’s heart ache.

Harry reached into the drawer and pulled out another wand, smooth and pliable with a bulb at the end. He stroked his fingers along the wood and closed his eyes again with a hum as the familiar magic moved through his veins, igniting his senses and his memories. He was in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, back at Hogwarts and he could smell burned wood and chocolate.

_“You should know that Sirius Black was my best friend, Harry.”_

_“So do you think he did it? Betrayed my parents, I mean?”_

_“I can’t believe it, but yet…I can’t understand how it could have been anyone else.” Remus frowned and shook his head. “I feel quite sure I have missed something…”_

_“You were close, with my parents.” It was a statement, rather than a question and Harry paused for a moment, not sure if he wanted an answer but needing to ask anyway. “ Was my father the bastard Snape always makes him out to be?”_

_“Professor Snape, Harry. No, he was a typical teenager and he and Sirius could be…difficult, I suppose, sometimes cruel to those they didn’t count as their friends. We all have flaws, Harry – they were young boys, learning the way of the world, and they made some mistakes. Your father became a much better man when he met your mother – he grew up.”_

_“Do you think he would have been…?” Harry trailed off, feeling his cheeks heat and he didn’t want to finish his sentence. Remus walked behind him then and placed a soft hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and speaking quietly._

_“He would have been proud of you, Harry. Of that I am certain.”_

Willow - Aconitum at the core. The wand had known where Remus’ future lay long before he had been bitten. In the same way that Harry’s wand and years before Harry, Tom Riddle’s wand, had known the masters for whom they would be destined.

Harry had looked through many of the wands in the drawer, feeling the magic and remembering, only Sirius’ wand missing – it had gone with him into the veil and could no more be retrieved that Sirius himself could be. The burial for Sirius had been symbolic, unlike the funerals for Remus and Fred, both lowered into the dirt as the sky wept for them.

Finally, Harry had picked up the wand he clutched in his hand now, this one humming to him more loudly than the others as he pulled it close to his chest and felt his heart thrum faster. He closed his eyes and he was in the Room of Requirement, surrounded by the heady scent of expensive cologne, the faint, musky scent of arousal and the notes of a citrus shampoo, crisp and delicious. 

_“Draco please…I…I want you.” Harry could feel the blush rising to his cheeks and he hated himself for it, cursing his reactions when Draco was looking at him like that, so cool and calm, so collected._

_“Why?” Draco’s eyes widened at Harry’s words a little as he watched him and Harry felt the heat on his cheeks deepen._

_Because I might die without knowing how it feels. Because I think I love you._

_“I don’t know. Isn’t it enough that I do?”_

_Draco nodded at that, after a long moment and then leaned forward to brush their lips together._

_“Yes, it’s enough.”_

_“Then you will…?”_

_Draco looked as if he was going to say something else, but instead responded with a nod. He pushed Harry back down onto the sofa and settled over him._

_Harry felt his heart beat more rapidly in his chest and leaned up to Draco, to capture his lips in a fierce kiss as they moved together until Harry didn’t know where Draco ended and he began._

_Afterwards Harry burrowed against Draco._

_“Don’t…”_

_Don’t leave me. Don’t make fun of me. Don’t ever stop holding me._

_But Harry couldn’t say any of that out loud so he trailed off and kissed Draco._

_“I won’t.”_

_Harry smiled against Draco’s lips at his answer and let him kiss back._

Hawthorn - unicorn hair at its core. Draco had left after the war, as soon as Voldemort had fallen. The rumour was that his parents had moved to the South of France but there was no word of Draco. Nobody could quite understand why Harry cared but then nobody had really known Draco. 

Nobody except Harry.

He stood and moved from the chill wind of the evening into his comfortable cottage, used to his life of solitude by now, having given up on dreams of anything more. A marriage to Ginny was clearly out of the question, much to Molly’s disappointment. Although she was one of his best friends, he knew long before leaving school that his interests lay elsewhere and afterwards his relationships hadn’t exactly been easy.

_“I leave tomorrow for Romania.”_

_“I remember.”_

_“You know I won’t be able to commit to anything, yeah? Not while I’m away and probably not even after that.”_

_“I know, Charlie – you mentioned – several times.” Harry turned his face from Charlie and buried it into the pillow, clinging to it a little and letting out a sigh._

_“Come on now, Harry. Don’t be like that, love.”_

_Love._

_What a stupid word._

_Harry moved around again to give Charlie his best attempt at a smile. “You’ve always been honest with me. I suppose I hoped I’d change your mind.”_

_Charlie looked closely at Harry and ran a large hand through Harry’s hair, ruffling it a little._

_“You did? I dunno, Harry – I sort of get the impression your heart’s not really…in it.”_

_“What makes you say that?” Harry sat up quickly and stared at Charlie, feeling his eyes narrow as his face fixed into a frown._

_“Settle down, love - I just…” Charlie shrugged and looked away, then looked back at Harry. “I don’t mean to pry but I’m not entirely convinced you’re really over this other bloke. The mystery man of the past, you mentioned when we first started doing this.”_

_Harry looked down at his hands and then back at Charlie, shooting him a rueful smile and feeling his heart break again as he remembered._

_“I want to be – over him, I mean – I haven’t seen him in ages, I doubt he remembers…”_

_“Oh, I imagine he does.” Charlie chuckled at that and then reached out to pull Harry into his arms. “Now, why don’t you give me a snog? There are only a few hours more before the sun comes up.”_

_Charlie pressed his lips to Harry’s own and spoke against them before they fell together into the night._

_“He’s out there somewhere, whoever he is. The right one for you. Don’t give up, love.”_

Harry placed Draco’s wand down on the coffee table in the living room and cast his eye towards his rucksack, haphazardly packed. As he flicked his gaze to the clock the anticipated knock on his door came, right on the hour. Harry moved to open the door and grinned as he saw Severus, arms folded, dressed in black and scowling at him as if Harry had knocked on Severus’ door uninvited.

“Come in it’s cold out. I have Firewhiskey – the good stuff, this time - the stuff you said you liked.”

“I suppose that offers a little consolation for an evening in your company, Potter.” Despite his words Severus moved indoors, past Harry and wandered to the living room. He took a seat on the leather armchair he had quickly established as his own when he started visiting Harry at home, and arched an eyebrow looking impatient. “Well then, where is it?”

“Here.” Harry laughed and poured a generous measure of Firewhiskey, handing the glass to Severus and opened another cold beer for himself, ignoring the look of disdain he was getting. He had become accustomed to Severus’ ways rather quickly following the war and he had come to find the insults and the disapproving glances more entertaining than anything else.

Harry sat on the sofa as Severus inclined his head in silent thanks and savoured his first sip of Firewhiskey. Harry grinned as Severus hummed his approval. When Severus opened his eyes again, he flicked his gaze to the coffee table and fixed his eyes on Draco’s wand, his expression unreadable.

“You are quite determined, then?”

“I am.” Harry nodded quietly and looked at Severus, “I intend to Apparate to him tomorrow – if you will tell me where he is…” Harry trailed off for a moment and then began to speak again. “I understand you will be betraying his confidence and I am sorry to ask you to do so, but I must see him. I want to return his wand to him and I want to…talk. You know why, of course.”

“You imagine yourself still in love with him.” Severus sipped his whiskey again and fixed Harry with a dark gaze.

“I need to at least see…understand why he left and see if there could be a future. Even if I am wrong, I don’t expect I will be able to move on unless I am certain. It has been ten years and I still haven’t managed it.”

“I see.” Severus ran his finger around the rim of his glass and then looked away with a grimace. “You should know, Potter, if I believed his protestations that he is happy I would not divulge his location to you for any reason.” He paused for a moment and looked back at Harry. “If this does not work and he tells you to leave him be, I will not have you trying to convince him otherwise. I would sooner Obliviate you than have the life he has tried to craft for himself upturned. You must give me your word that if this trip is not successful you will leave him be.”

Harry nodded, his hand curled around the beer in his hand as he looked at Draco’s wand on the table.

“You have my word.”

“Very well.” Severus nodded and then reached into his robes. He pulled out a piece of paper with a couple of scribbled words written in a spidery hand. “This is the village in where he currently lives. This is all the information I have. You will have to do your own detective work from here.”

“Thank you.” Harry let his fingers caress the parchment for a moment before he moved to his rucksack and put the piece of paper neatly into the front pocket, along with Draco’s wand. He held the wand for another moment before he turned, moving back to the sofa and flicking on the television with a grin at Severus.

“Not another one of those blasted Muggle films of yours, Potter?”

“I’m afraid so.” Harry grinned into his beer and watched as the credits started to roll, laughing as Severus settled himself down happily, knowing full well that Severus rather enjoyed watching old films.

“Well if we must.”

The film flickered in the background and Harry watched the screen, without really hearing the words. He could almost smell the soft scent of Malfoy’s skin as the magic from the wand hummed around him and the feeling of it took his breath away. No matter how much he tried to pull his thoughts from tomorrow and concentrate on the dialogue, he found himself thinking of only one thing for the rest of the evening.

Draco.

OooooOOooooO

The next day Harry found himself outside a small pub and pushed the door open slowly, his bag slung over his shoulder as he looked around. The inside of the bar was dark and barely lit, the room smelling of stale cigarettes and beer.

He made his way to the bar and perched on a stool, waiting to be served until a man came out from the back room, rubbing a towel over his hands and slinging it over his shoulder.

“What’s your poison?”

“Oh, ale I guess. A pint. Thanks.” Harry mentally rolled his eyes at himself for sounding like it was the first time he had ever been to a pub and gratefully curled his hand around the glass when his drink was poured. He looked down at the dark, frothy bitter to avoid meeting the eyes of the barman.

“You’re here for Beltane? Going out to the clootie well and the bonfire?” Harry looked up at the barman then with a look which was clearly sufficiently blank because he laughed and shook his head. “Clearly not, then.”

“It’s some sort of festival, is it?”

The barman nodded and then pulled a map out of his pocket, showing Harry a spot which looked very much as if it was in the middle of nowhere.

“There’s a whitethorn out there that folks say has some sort of healing power. It’s in bloom now. Worth a trip if you like walking anyway, it’s a decent enough wander and the scenery is grand – you’ll get no finer anywhere else in the country.”

“Great…thanks…” Harry looked again at the map and then looked grateful when the barman handed it to him with another chuckle.

“Keep it. Enjoy your stay – just speak to Rachel about the rooms.” The man nodded at a middle-aged woman talking with a group of people at the end of the bar and Harry nodded his thanks.

He looked back at the map and supposed it would give him something to do tomorrow because he had no idea where else to start.

With a sigh he drained the rest of his ale and raised his hand for another, staring at the map for a long time, lost in his thoughts.

OooooOOooooO

After walking for what felt like hours, Harry stepped out into a clearing with a small spring and a wild, overgrown Hawthorn. He clutched the wand in his pocket – Draco’s wand – and moved towards the small tree with its dense crown. The branches were covered with ribbons and rags, an assortment of different colours, tied to the deep brown boughs, flecked with orange. The light fragrance permeated the air and the small, white flowers, had begun to blossom. It seemed as if he was the only one there at the moment, and he wasn’t sure what he should do, feeling he should say or do something to respect the custom and the beliefs of those that would make a pilgrimage to such a spot.

He reached into the tree and looked at some of the rags curiously when he heard a twig snap behind him and he turned on his heel. 

“Potter! What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

Harry wanted to reply but he couldn’t, his mouth going dry at the sight of Malfoy. As he always had, Draco looked tall and lean, his hair perfectly coiffed and his face angular and blemish free. He wore smart grey wool trousers with boots and a button down shirt, a striped jacket thrown over the top of the shirt. Harry thought it was a bit of a ridiculous outfit for a pilgrimage to a tree in the middle of nowhere but kept his thought to himself as he stared, drinking in the sight of Draco.

“Well?” Draco folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, glaring at Harry.

“I wanted to see you.” Harry cursed himself for blurting the words out quickly as he tripped over them a little and then withdrew Draco’s wand from his pocket and held it out to him. “And I wanted to give you this back.”

Draco’s face paled as he looked at the wand and then he looked back up at Harry. He took a step closer and reached out his hand for the wand before he dropped it again, as if touching it might hurt.

“Am I dreaming this, Potter?”

“No, I’m really here.” Feeling like a bit of a prat, actually, Harry thought but kept it to himself.

“Pity.” Draco took another step towards Harry and then grimaced when he heard the snapping of twigs and voices coming in their direction. He moved past Harry, brushing against him, and beckoned for him to follow. They wandered downhill in silence for some time until they reached a small house, settled by itself in a little valley, with a view of the top of the sprawling hills which surrounded the area.

“Your home?” Harry looked curiously at Draco who nodded, curtly and opened the door, wiping his feet on the rough doormat.

“It’s Beltane, a Gaelic festival. It brings all the tourists to the May bush, some nonsense about healing ailments, I believe. We would have had no peace.” Draco gestured as he stepped inside. “Come on then, I suppose you had better come in.”

Harry didn’t bother to mention the ribbon which he had seen Draco pocket when Harry had turned, or the fact it was clear that Draco was at the tree for his own pilgrimage of sorts. Harry looked Draco over but couldn’t see anything wrong with him physically. He felt his heart catch at the thought of Draco being sick and felt his breath leave him for a moment, before he clenched his hands into fists, the feeling of his nails digging into his palms offering him some jolt back to reality. It would do no good at all to lose control of himself and jump to conclusions now, in this fragile moment.

Harry looked around the room, with its television and a few photos which kept completely still, of Draco’s mother and father and one of Draco shaking hands with someone who looked rather official.

“You don’t use magic?”

“No, not anymore. I have lived as a Muggle since the war.” Draco moved to a drinks cabinet and gestured Harry should sit down on a small sofa. “Drink?”

“Lager?”

“Good grief, try again, Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes at Harry and Harry looked up at him with a grin.

“Oh hell. Maybe a brandy or something? With lemonade.”

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment and then let out a frustrated sort of sound, mixing Harry his drink and passing it to him, “Lemonade…lemonade in my finest cognac.”

Harry took a tentative sort of sip because he hadn’t really had brandy before and coughed as it burned down his throat, the lemonade taking the edge off but not enough. Feeling his cheeks flush he held his glass out to Draco again. “Is there any more lemonade?”

Draco frowned at Harry and then topped his glass to the brim with lemonade.

“Next time I will make you that without the brandy.”

“Fine by me.” Harry laughed and took another sip, savouring the taste while Draco poured himself a whiskey.

Draco sat next to Harry on the sofa and crossed his legs and Harry tried not to look at the way his crossed legs pulled his trousers taut around his thighs, accentuating the lean muscles. He sipped his brandy again and waited for Draco to speak.

“What have you been doing with yourself for the last ten years?” Draco looked at Harry a little curiously, looking as if he still couldn’t quite believe Harry was here on his sofa. 

“I trained as a wandmaker. Ollivander owed me a favour and then when he passed he left me the store. It’s how I came across your wand after all of this time. There is a drawer, you see – with the wands of the dead and missing. It’s the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts tomorrow and I was thinking about the war, decided to look in the drawer. I had almost forgotten that your wand would be in there and then when I saw it…” Harry shrugged, not really sure how to finish that sentence.

When I saw it I remembered _everything_. 

When I saw it I realised you left before I could tell you I loved you.  
When I saw it I realised I still do – love you, that is.

Harry didn’t say any of those things - he simply sipped his brandy and let the unspoken words sit in the small space between them.

“I have to say, I’m surprised…” Draco looked a bit confused for a moment and then sipped his whiskey, looking away and speaking quietly. “Are you married?”

Harry spluttered on his brandy at that, spraying a little on Draco’s light grey trousers and then looked over at Draco who appeared to be studying his drink. Harry wondered for one moment if he was holding his breath.

“ _No_. I’m openly gay, which will hardly come as any surprise to you and I’m afraid I’ve gone from one disaster to another since…” Since you left, since I realised no one made me feel the way you did, since I realised I wasn’t going to be able to move on until I saw you again. “I have sort of given up, to be honest.”

Harry tried to read Draco’s expression, but apart from his shoulders relaxing a little, his cool expression remained unchanged. 

“I’m sorry it has been difficult for you.”

“It’s alright,” Harry shrugged and sipped his drink before turning to Draco, “What have you been doing since you left?”

“I invest in the stock market, shares in Muggle companies. I began with money from my trust fund and increased it substantially. I now work for a number of charitable organisations.” 

“I see.” Harry looked at Draco with a smile. “You help people.”

“Yes, you might say that.”

“Are you with anyone serious?” Harry held his own drink, taking great pains not to look at Draco.

“No. It is hardly the sort of place to meet someone new.” Draco paused as Harry released his breath in a whoosh and their eyes connected. “It has been a long time.”

“I see.” Harry almost felt like he wanted to do a little jig, but instead tried to hide his delight with another gulp of his sweet drink.

“Tomorrow everyone will remember.” Draco sipped his whiskey again and he didn’t need to expand on his comment because Harry knew – of course he knew – that Draco was referring to the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

“There are services planned. I have to be there.” Harry grimaced and then flicked his eyes to Draco. “I have to give a speech.”

“Oh?” Draco laughed softly at that and nudged Harry’s shoulder with his own. “You were never terribly good at that stuff.”

“No.” Harry laughed his agreement and then paused. “You could come back with me for the service. It would be nice to have…someone.”

Draco snorted at that and shook his head before looking at Harry curiously.

“You must have plenty of people.”

“Not really,” Harry shrugged and met Draco’s eyes, “Ron and Hermione have their own family now and I lost touch with most of the others – Seamus, Dean, Neville – I’m pretty used to being on my own.”

“I’m not sure it would be appreciated by many if I were to make a sudden appearance.”

Harry felt his breath catch because it almost sounded as if Draco was considering it for a moment.

“You might be surprised. There is a lot more sympathy for you than you might expect.” Harry could feel the heat rise in his cheeks and he curled his hand more tightly around his glass. “I was pretty vocal after the war about Severus and about you – about how you didn’t turn me in when I was taken to the Manor. I didn’t tell anyone about our history, no one except Severus, but I implied we were close. I think you would have a better reception than you expect.”

“Severus…” Draco looked at Harry. “He knows that you and I have history? I expect that is how you knew where to find me, then.”

“Yes.” Harry winced and then let out a short laugh. “He is the world’s most reluctant matchmaker.” After a moment Harry realised how that sounded and coughed, sipping his brandy quickly again. “I mean…not that I wanted matchmaking…well…”

“It’s okay, Potter.” Harry grimaced as he heard the amused note in Draco’s voice and wondered when they had moved close enough together that Harry could feel the heat from Draco’s thigh against his own.

“I sometimes wonder if I made it all up.”

“What?”

“Us, how good it was.” Harry turned to Draco and forced himself to meet his eyes. “I mean it was good, wasn’t it? Before the war screwed everything up – even if it was secret and our friends would have killed us both – it was good…wasn’t it?”

Draco looked at Harry for a long time and Harry realised he was leaning so close he could smell the peaty scent of the whiskey on Draco’s breath and felt the hot puff of air against his lips as Draco spoke, their proximity making him shiver with pleasure.

“It was the only thing that kept me going.” Draco seemed to realise how close they were sitting as he spoke in his low drawl and moved back just a little. “Yes, it was good.”

Harry contemplated his drink for a moment, unable to stop the broad grin from breaking across his face.

“You like it here?”

Draco shrugged in response and looked beyond Harry, before pointing to the window.

“I like it well enough. You can see the fire from here, for Beltane.” Draco moved his hand and pointed towards the hilltop where a bonfire flickered orange flames into the night. Harry could feel Draco’s arm brush his own as he raised it and felt a sudden heat that had very little to do with fire.

“Fire always reminds me of the war. It reminds me of the day Hogwarts burned.”

Draco grimaced and nodded.

“Not to mention the Fiendfyre.”

“Ah. Yes, that too.” Harry nodded and cast a glance over to Draco, his profile dimly lit by the soft light in the room and couldn’t stop himself from leaning against him a little.

“Harry…”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry.”

Harry turned and Draco was looking right at him, his cool eyes fixed on Harry’s own. Harry was about to ask a question, to apologise for being forward, when his lips were captured in a firm kiss which left him feeling a bit breathless.

“Harry…”

Harry couldn’t stop himself when he heard Draco say his name like that and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him back in a way which hopefully left no doubt as to where Harry’s heart lay. When he pulled away Harry was breathless and he tangled his fists into Draco’s shirt.

“Please don’t stop this. I’ve missed it so much – I’ve missed _you_ so much.”

“Why?” Draco looked wide-eyed at Harry and once again he was back in the Room of Requirement, surrounded by the scent of Draco. He leaned in close just to breathe Draco in.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it enough that I have, that I do?” Harry grinned up at Draco, wondering if he remembered their first time too and let out a soft sound as he felt Draco’s hand clench into his hair.

“ _Yes_ , it’s enough.” Draco smirked at Harry and leaned in to kiss him again, speaking against his lips. “But this time I’m taking you to bed, Potter.” He stood and reached out a hand to Harry who took it and followed Draco upstairs to the small bedroom.

“It’s nice. Bright.”

“Were you expecting green satin and snakes on the walls?” Draco smirked at Harry again as they stood together in the small, airy room, tastefully decorated in creams and browns.

“I’m not really sure.” Harry looked at Draco with a shrug and then looked back at the bed and remembered what they were actually doing there. While he looked at the bed, Draco moved behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“The bed really is quite comfortable.”

“Oh?” Harry turned in the circle of Draco’s arms and then found himself propelled backwards onto the bed. Draco’s lips found his own and worked along Harry’s jaw and down his neck as they tugged and pulled at one another’s clothes and lost themselves in a fierce, desperate, fight of a kiss. 

One of them moaned into the kiss, Harry wasn’t sure who but the sound echoed in the quiet room with their ragged breathing and the rustle of the sheets beneath them.

“I need you.” Draco’s usually cultured tones were gruff and edgy and Harry’s only response was to kiss him again. He pulled at Draco’s belt and heard the metallic clink of the buckle beneath his hands as he tugged open Draco’s trousers and then reached his hand into them to palm his cock through the material of his pants.

“Then have me.” Harry fell back as Draco bit down onto his shoulder, his teeth marking his skin through the thin cotton shirt. They tore at their own clothes and each other’s, until there was nothing between them but ten years and the memories of the past.

Draco kissed Harry again and moved down his body, as Harry felt himself arch into Draco, never wanting the sensations to stop. The movements stilled for a moment as Draco reached for the drawer by the bed and withdrew a tube. He slicked his fingers and then he moved his mouth back to Harry’s chest as he moved his hand in between them and slid two fingers almost roughly into Harry, working them deeply inside him.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry…” Draco worked his fingers deeper into Harry and then slid them out only to press back in again, his eyes trained on Harry for his reaction as he crooked his fingers and Harry felt himself come undone. 

“More…” Harry looked into Draco’s eyes and saw the way they darkened at his words and shivered beneath them. 

Draco slid his fingers out of Harry and moved to the tube again. He ran his hand over his own cock and Harry licked his lips which felt dry at the sight of Draco, hard and ready for him – for Harry. Harry wanted to dip his head to Draco’s cock, to feel the heavy weight of it on his tongue as it slid into his throat but he wanted to feel Draco inside him more and so he stayed where he was, his legs parted as he waited for Draco.

In one smooth thrust, Draco moved inside Harry until he was fully seated and bit down again on Harry’s neck, to stifle his own cry and to give Harry a moment to adjust.

“You have no idea how much I have missed this.”

“I…I know…” Harry wrapped his hand in Draco’s hair and clenched around him to make him move as he pressed back to meet his thrusts. 

As they moved together in the darkness, the room began to crackle and fill with magic. Harry could feel the familiar hum of the magic that he had felt from Draco’s wand just yesterday and he buried his head in the crook of Draco’s neck with a groan as the magic exploded around them and they shuddered into a climax together, collapsing onto the bed, panting and breathless, as the magic dissipated. After a long moment, Draco rolled off Harry onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his arm thrown over his forehead.

“I’ve missed it so much, Harry.”

Harry laughed at that and curled into Draco’s side, “I’m not surprised. I’m pretty good, learned a few new moves and everything.” He laughed again because he knew Draco wasn’t really talking about sex, although a part of Harry desperately hoped Draco missed that too.

“Is that so?” Draco turned to Harry with a smirk and pulled him into his arms so they faced one another in the small bed. “Who has been teaching you these new moves, Potter?”

Harry shrugged and looked away for a moment and then back at Draco. “No one, really – not for a long time – I was just teasing, I know you meant you miss the magic.”

Draco made a non-committal sound and then kissed Harry lightly.

“Yes, I meant the magic. But it’s not just that. I’ve missed it all, you see.”

“Oh. Why did you leave?” Harry wanted to ask why Draco had left _Harry_ but he wasn’t sure he could stand to hear the answer.

“Because I’m a coward and a fool and because I wanted a chance to be a better man.”

“Draco…” Harry moved his hand through Draco’s hair and looked at him as their foreheads pressed together and they whispered to one another in the darkness.

“Yes?”

“Will you come home? I know Severus misses you. He has had to spend time with me since you left and your parents went away – you can only imagine his displeasure.” Harry paused, delighted when Draco laughed and then continued. “I miss you. I’m not sure I could leave again or have you leave again.”

“You expect me to give all this up, Potter? I have built a life for myself in a world where I can be a good man, where nobody knows my father or my history.”

Harry kissed Draco softly at that and then pulled back to look in his eyes again.

“You can be a good man in my world too, you know. You _are_ a good man in my world. In my eyes.”

“Harry…” Draco shook his head at him softly and then leaned in for another kiss, lingering a little more this time. “I won’t just come home with you – leave all this behind – I have commitments.”

“I understand.” Harry lowered his voice to a whisper, trying to keep his voice free from any tremor or hint of nerves. “You will try though?”

“I will try.”  
“And you’ll come with me, tomorrow?”

Draco paused and Harry found himself holding his breath again, the room silent and still but for the ticking of the clock.

“Yes. I suppose someone should be there to give you moral support for this speech of yours.”

Harry let out his breath and laughed at Draco’s response.

“You know I will get distracted and fluff my lines.”

“No doubt,” Draco pressed his lips against Harry’s and pulled back with a brilliant smile, “I promise not to heckle.”

With a laugh Harry shook his head and rolled Draco over onto his back, pressing against him.

“Hey, Malfoy?”

“Yes, Potter?”

“I missed you.”

“Missed you too, Harry – missed you too.”

Harry grinned down at Draco and then kissed him, the sort of kiss that told Draco all of the things that Harry had left unspoken so many years ago. 

Draco answered Harry with a kiss of his own.

OooooOOooooO

Harry woke to the watery light from the sun streaming through the window of his bedroom at Godric’s Hollow. He turned to his side and saw Draco’s wand out on the small table next to the bed and picked it up, sliding it between his fingers and feeling the magic and the spring in the wood. He blushed a little, thinking of what they had used the wand for the previous night, his wrists still a little red from being bound with a Slytherin tie and he grinned at the flush he could feel heating his face, shaking his head at himself.

“That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter.”

Harry turned and laughed, looking at Draco who had propped himself up on his elbow, watching Harry with a smirk on his face.

“It is, isn’t it.” Harry put the wand back down and moved closer to Draco to press their lips together in a languid good morning sort of kiss. “Draco..?”

“Really, Potter?” Draco groaned and pulled back from the kiss with a glare at Harry which he often did when Harry tried to ask questions mid-kiss, although the glare never really met his eyes. After a moment of Harry looking at him, he rolled his eyes and ran his hands through Harry’s hair, frowning at it a little as if it offended him. “Alright, then – what do you want to ask me?”

“Why were you at the whitethorn that day. I know you had a ribbon so what needed healing?” Harry had been dying to ask the question since the day he had first seen Draco and now a year had passed he felt he was entitled to know.

“I didn’t have a ribbon.” Draco looked down at Harry with a slightly shifty expression and then buried his face in his neck with a groan, mumbling something into the skin which sounded suspiciously like ‘my heart’.

“Oh…” Harry tangled his hands into Draco’s hair and then paused for a moment. “But you never got to tie your ribbon, do you think you should go back?”

Draco looked up at Harry and glared at him again as Harry tried to bite back a grin.

“What do you think, Potter?”

“I don’t know…” Harry shrugged and then laughed and tackled Draco onto his back, kissing him enthusiastically.

“You’re like an overeager puppy sometimes, Merlin knows why I put up with you.”

But Harry could feel Draco was smiling too, the brilliant kind of smile that left him breathless and he pulled back from the kiss just so he could see it.

“Because you love me?”

Harry felt his cheeks flush because they hadn’t really said that before, although he knew in his heart that Draco wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love Harry. Still, it was pretty unfair of Draco to just sit there with a smirk on his face and looking at Harry for a long moment, while he flushed and fidgeted and waited for his answer.

After what seemed like hours, Draco flipped Harry over onto his back and pressed their lips together in the kind of kiss that promised the world.

“Yes, you prat. Because I love you.” If Draco hadn’t been speaking right against Harry’s lips Harry almost would have missed it when he spoke again. “Because I never stopped loving you.”

As they kissed and Draco covered Harry’s body with his own, Harry thought about the wand and the tree where they first saw each other and wondered if maybe hawthorn hadn’t healed Draco’s heart after all.

“Do you think…?” He wanted to ask Draco what he thought of the theory but then Draco was kissing his neck and anything Harry might have wanted to say seemed to leave him in a breathless rush.

“No more questions, Potter – If you can continue to ask daft questions when I’m trying to seduce you, I’m not doing this right.”

But of course Draco _was_ doing it right and it was quite a while before Harry was able to ask anything else at all. 

_~Fin~_


End file.
